"Distant hills are always green," and the best gold further on. That is
a law of nature--human nature--which is quite superior to facts; and
thus the world moves on.
So from the Lydenburg Goldfields prospectors `humping their swags' or
driving their small pack-donkeys spread afield, and transport-riders
with their long spans and rumbling waggons followed, cutting a wider
track where traders with winding strings of carriers had already
ventured on. But the hunters had gone first. There were great hunters
whose names are known; and others as great who missed the accident of
fame; and after them hunters who traded, and traders who hunted. And so
too with prospectors, diggers, transport-riders and all.
Between the goldfields and the nearest port lay the Bushveld, and game
enough for all to live on.
Thus, all were hunters of a sort, but the great hunters--the hunters of
big game--were apart; we were the smaller fry, there to admire and to
imitate.
Trophies, carried back with pride or by force of habit, lay scattered
about, neglected and forgotten, round the outspans, the tents of lone
prospectors, the cabins of the diggers, and the grass wayside shanties
of the traders. How many a `record' head must have gone then, when none
had thought of time or means to save them! Horns and skins lay in
jumbled heaps in the yards or sheds of the big trading stores. The
splendid horns of the Koodoo and Sable, and a score of others only less
beautiful, could be seen nailed up in crude adornment of the roughest
walls; nailed up, and then unnoticed and forgotten! And yet not quite!
For although to the older hands they were of no further interest, to the
new-comer they spoke of something yet to see, and something to be done;
and the sight set him dreaming of the time when he too would go
a-hunting and bring his trophies home.
Perched on the edge of the Berg, we overlooked the wonder-world of the
Bushveld, where the big game roamed in thousands and the "wildest tales
were true." Living on the fringe of a hunter's paradise, most of us
were drawn into it from time to time, for shorter or longer spells, as
opportunity and our circumstances allowed; and little by little one got
to know the names, appearances, and habits of the many kinds of game
below. Long talks in the quiet nights up there under waggons, in grass
shelters in the woods, or in the wattle-and-daub shanties of the
diggers, where men passed to and fro and swapped lies, as the polite
phrase went, were our `night's entertainments,' when younger hands might
learn much that was useful and true, and more that was neither.
It was a school of grown-up schoolboys; no doubt a hard one, but it had
its playground side, and it was the habit of the school to `drop on to'
any breach of the unwritten laws, to `rub in' with remorseless good
humour the mistakes that were made, and to play upon credulity with a
shamelessness and nerve quite paralysing to the judgment of the
inexperienced. Yet, with it all, there was a kindliness and quick
instinct of `fair doos' which tempered the wind and, in the main, gave
no one more than was good for him.
There the new boy had to run the gauntlet, and, if without a watchful
instinct or a friendly hint, there was nothing to warn him of it. When
Faulkner--dragged to the piano--protested that he remembered nothing but
a mere `morceau,' he was not conscious of transgression, but a delighted
audience caught up the word, and thenceforth he was known only as
`Ankore'--Harry the Sailor having explained that `more so' was a
recognised variant.
"Johnny-come-lately's got to learn" was held to be adequate reason for
letting many a beginner buy his experience, while those who had been
through it all watched him stumble into the well-known pitfalls. It
would no doubt have been a much more comfortable arrangement all round
had there been a polite ignoring of each other's blunders and
absurdities. But that is not the way of schools where the spirit of fun
plays its useful part; and, after all, the lesson well `rubbed in' is
well remembered.
The new assayer, primed by us with tales of Sable Antelope round Macmac
Camp, shot old Jim Hill's only goat, and had to leave the carcase with a
note of explanation--Jim being out when he called. What he heard from
us when he returned, all prickly with remorse and shame, was a liberal
education; but what he remembers best is Jim's note addressed that
evening to our camp:
"Boys! Jim Hill requests your company to dinner to-morrow, Sunday!"
"Mutton!"
As the summer spent itself, and whispers spread around of new strikes
further on, a spirit of restlessness--a touch of trek fever--came upon
us, and each cast about which way to try his luck. Our camp was the
summer headquarters of two transport-riders, and when many months of
hard work, timber-cutting on the Berg, contracting for the Companies,
pole-slipping in the bush, and other things, gave us at last a `rise,'
it seemed the natural thing to put it all into waggons and oxen, and go
transport-riding too.
The charm of a life of freedom and complete independence--a life in
which a man goes as and where he lists, and carries his home with him--
is great indeed; but great too was the fact that hunting would go with
it.
How the little things that mark a new departure stamp themselves
indelibly on the memory! A flower in the hedgerow where the roads
divide will mark the spot in one's mind for ever; and yet a million
more, before and after, and all as beautiful, are passed unseen. In
memory, it is all as fresh, bright and glorious as ever: only the years
have gone. The start, the trek along the plateau, the crystal streams,
the ferns and trees, the cool pure air; and, through and over all, the
quite intoxicating sense of freedom! Then came the long slow climb to
Spitzkop where the Berg is highest and where our ascent began. For
there, with Africa's contrariness, the highest parts banked up and
buttressed by gigantic spurs are most accessible from below, while the
lower edges of the plateau are cut off sheer like the walls of some
great fortress. There, near Spitzkop, we looked down upon the promised
land; there, stood upon the outmost edge, as a diver on his board, and
paused and looked and breathed before we took the plunge.
It is well to pitch one's expectations low, and so stave off
disappointments. But counsels of perfection are wasted on the young,
and when accident combines with the hopefulness of youth to lay the
colours on in all their gorgeousness, what chance has Wisdom?
"See here, young feller!" said Wisdom, "don't go fill yourself up with
tomfool notions 'bout lions and tigers waitin' behind every bush. You
won't see one in a twelvemonth! Most like you won't see a buck for a
week! You don't know what to do, what to wear, how to walk, how to
look, or what to look for; and you'll make as much noise as a traction
engine. This ain't open country: it's bush; they can see and hear, and
you can't. An' as for big game, you won't see any for a long while yet,
so don't go fool yourself!"
Excellent! But fortune in a sportive mood ordained that the very first
thing we saw as we outspanned at Saunderson's on the very first day in
the Bushveld, was the fresh skin of a lion stretched out to dry. What
would the counsels of Solomon himself have weighed against that wet
skin?